Descriptive Essay: The Re-Try-Personal Narrative

Beginning a 12-minute journey, leaving my residence Piedmont North A; I headed to Starbucks. From the speed of the wind to the coolness of the air, I could tell that the season of Fall was finally beginning. The falling leaves of the trees were starting to leave a trail, and as I was beginning to approach the establishment, the aroma of coffee beans was lingering in the air.

“Ok guys, lets go check out.” My Mom hollered. So me and my brother started walking to the checkout line with my mom. The cashier scanned the chair and carried them out to the warm car. He opened the trunk and got the chairs in at best as they could and then grabbed the black shiney handle to shut the rear end. We all hopped into the car and reached for the seatbelt

It was a foggy night. Charlie’s mom had to go to the grocery store and Roddy insisted that he should drive. Charlie’s mom had no idea they had been drinking. Charlie’s father needed Charlie to help him with chores, so he had to stay home. Roddy got in the driver’s seat, Charlie’s mom in the passenger seat, and Carrie in the back. They drove for 5 minutes or so when Charlie’s mom told Roddy to keep going straight. He did, but right through a stop sign. They got

If I could get one ‘do-over’ in life it would be to not have told my cello teacher all the things my oldest brother, Sarath, did to me and my older sister, Syha. Because I told my teacher , my family fell apart. The cops came to my house two days after I told, talked to me, and told me to go to a friend’s house. I complied, but when I left, my brother was taken to prison and my mom became upset and drank. Going home was never a pleasant experience because my mom would always be drunk and she would curse at me, and call me a liar and more. Multiple times my other brother, Eric, had to come home from work to protect me from her. It got to the point where he told mom to leave and not come back until she figured herself out. Syha left because

I wake up and look at the white ceiling as usual and stretch. I lay in bed for five more minutes not wanting to get out of my bed with purple sheets. I rip away the purple floral sheets and get goosebumps once the cool air hits my skin. I roll out of bed and drag my feet to the bathroom. I grab my light blue toothbrush and squeeze the last bit of pink toothpaste out of the tube. As I'm brushing my teeth I think of going back to my bed and curling in the sheets. I brush that thought away, I did that once and I got to school half an hour late.

This time, the beeping didn’t wake me up, no it was the tune the birds sang in the early morning that did. My eyes slowly fluttered open. Light immediately flooded my vision. I sat up on my bed suddenly, well aware of my surroundings. ‘Wait this isn’t my room’, I

I just stared out the window and kept to myself. Then I realized i rather know what I was gonna come home to so i asked my mom if she knew and she said “I don't know if he's home or not i'm just as lost as you.” and the thought that me and my mom might be disappointed just hurt. I didn't have time to react when we had pulled up into the driveway of red dirt. Before I could even speak my heart dropped.

On a Friday afternoon after a long week of work at the new landscaping company Craig started working at, the recently graduated teen went to his workplace to pick up his very first check. He felt great about accomplishing more than forty hours this week, working from dusk until dawn every day. A car was a necessity for him, so he was going to put seventy-five percent of his check in his savings account. Craig is really enjoying his new job because it is getting him much tanner and even more in shape. Very avid, he pulled up to the bank with his mother. The doors of the bank were going back and forth because it was very busy that day and a lot of people got paid on Fridays. As he walked into the chilly bank, he hopped in the medium sized line

It began when I was about three years old. My step sister (Rylee) and I were board, my mom was making dinner, it smelled delicious. We were trying to figure out what to do when suddenly an idea popped into Rylee head and all of a sudden,

After that we headed home. And the car ride home was not good I puked on the side of the road because I was hot and when it is hot I puke.

Emmerson was jumping on Holly and running all over the place, Holly was just baiting at him like a ball and growling in a playful way. Then all of the sudden Emmerson took a flying leap from our old brown couch onto the tree. Dad grabbed the tree before it could slam to the ground. but by then Emmerson was long gone. I had to hold the tree until it was ok to let go. I thought I was going to die if I had to hold that itchy thing anymore. At that moment, mom pulled into the driveway. “meet me outside” I yelled as I ran outside as fast as my legs could carry me into the cool

The alluring sun rays peak through the clouds at Ponder Park as I walk on the damp grass. The sweet faces of those who have come peer off into the distance. This heinous, yet endearing place I have arrived at blows a cool breeze through-out my entire body. Tiring, however its small glimpses of beauty glorifies me.

“Bye grandma, thank you!” my mom said as she shut the door. My mom took me to the car and put me in my car seat. It was a toddler seat with black stripes going across it. She buckled me in and started the car. My mom clicked her seatbelt and started to drive out of the driveway.

“Beep, BEEEEP,” my annoying alarm clock goes off. I groan into my pillow as I rolled over, then I see a repulsive monster face staring at me.

I drove down the street at a snails’ pace, passing the house once, twice, three times until I finally brought my car to a dead-stop around the corner, out of the line of sight if someone were to have been watching me. How naïve of me, who would have been watching me? In this place I would be an untouchable—if it weren’t for Alana. I unbuckled my seat belt, opened the door, and placed one foot on the asphalt one after another. I stood up, and began the 100-yard walk to the house (moving slower than my 90 year old Great Grandmother without her walker, mind you). It was a particularly warm night for December, but then again this is California, there is not rhyme or rhythm to our weather. As I walked I could see, over the Cliffside to my right, the dimly lit coastline and the subsequent blackness of the Pacific. Well, there I stood, the door within an arms reach, out of ways to delay my attendance further. I was, at this point, already 45 minutes late; “fashionably” late was good right? In my case I don’t know if I would’ve been considered “fashionably” late—perhaps just late (I am quite sure my faded Vans t-shirt and ripped boot-cut jeans would not be considered fashionable, by any standard). I lightly knocked on the menacing wooden doors. No response. Perhaps my faint knock was drowned out by the combined roar of voices and music inside. I knocked again, louder this time. A response.